


Road To Nowhere

by MarsMonkeyX



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bartender Dean, Based on True Events, Gambling, Homelessness, Runaway Castiel, sorta happy ending?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsMonkeyX/pseuds/MarsMonkeyX
Summary: A quick story about Castiel Novak, and vague looks into his life.  A small idea that wouldn't let me sleep until I addressed it. Loosely based on true events.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this very quickly and while in a bad mindset. There isn't anything dark, mind you, but it isn't exactly what I would call a happy fic. All mistakes in spelling are my own, and no, I probably won't fix them. 
> 
> As the summary says, this piece of work is based loosely on true events that did in fact happen to me. Though, the similarities end right before Castiel turns eighteen.
> 
> Enjoy!

The only constant was change, and Castiel Novak felt like he knew that better than anyone.

His parents, obsessed with religion and following who they believed was the one true God in the universe, had changed their beliefs three times before Castiel was a teenager.

They had changed churches four times in his lifespan, and many times before that.

His family had moved homes four times in just as many years, and traveled between two homes in two different cities every weekend for half of that time. They lived out of suitcases before settling in one home.

Castiel had loved the travel, and even living out of a suitcase, but it had taken its toll; years after he had settled into a home, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he didn't belong.

Though, he couldn't remember a time when he didn't feel that way, so he was hesitant to blame the traveling for it.

In his life, he had friends who loved him, and family who often called him the favorite. He had never been bullied, had never even been in a serious argument with anyone. He once joked that his life was perfect.

But when he turned sixteen, he realized what his life was really about.

He was temporary.

The one people turned to when they wanted something, but never gave him the same in return.  The friend for a while, but not when someone wanted a deep conversation. They had other people for that.

As Castiel grew older, he saw just how true that was.

His oldest brother, who had been Castiel's favorite brother since Castiel was a child, had gotten married and replaced Castiel with his wife's younger brother.

Castiel's next oldest brother had filled the role of favorite for a while, but that changed when his brother gained a job and started spending more time with coworkers than with family.

After that, Castiel didn't have any siblings to turn to. Even his sister in laws younger brother wasn't an option; he was engaged, and completely wrapped up in his lover. Castiel tried not to remember how they had been supposed best friends before the marriage that connected their families. That ship had gone down faster than the Titanic.

Once he was out of real life options, Castiel turned to online chats. Those relationships never lasted more than a week, though. Except one.

One particular friendship he had over the Internet had lasted a good year and half before things went to shit. They talked on and off, and mostly fought when they did talk.

Around the two year mark of knowing his online friend, Castiel called the friendship off for good.

His family never knew of his online friend, and he was insistent on keeping it that way. The struggles he and his friend had gone through were things he never wanted to think about, let alone discuss them.

But after that friendship had ended, Castiel had stuck with people he could see and touch. People who's intentions he could anticipate, and who's tones he could decipher.

There wasn't anyone he called his friends, though. No one he was able to turn to and relax in the presence of.

So when he was eighteen, he left home.

Castiel traveled for five years, living off any money he got when sitting on busy streets and, when he found casinos he was old enough to enter, money he got when gambling.

It wasn't ideal, but Castiel was, for the first time in too long, happy.

The traveling, gambling, staying in creepy motels and taking as much food from the complementary breakfast as he could before leaving, made him happy.

He was free to be whoever he wanted to be.

During the summer jobs he had, Castiel called himself Steve. More to disassociate himself with his past than to hide it. He didn't feel like Castiel anymore, and it felt wrong to use the name.

Within a year he responded to the name without hesitation, and Castiel was merely a word that lingered in the back of his mind.

During his fifth year from home, he encountered a gas station that seemed to beckon him closer. It wasn't anything special, but it drew Castiel in faster than a moth to a flame.

Castiel placed his hands on the counter, gaining the attention of-- he peered at her name tag-- Nora. "The sign said help wanted," he explained, inclining his head towards the door. "I just happen to be helpful."

Nora raised her eyebrow, then smiled. "Are you now?" she asked, then continued before Castiel could reply. "How about I give you an application, and then we go from there...?"

Castiel heard the question, and smiled. "Steve," he replied, offering his hand for Nora to shake. "My name is Steve."

He held the job at the gas station for two years before deciding to move on. Two years of living at an extended stay motel, and washing what little clothes he owned at the laundromat down the street.

Nora was sad to see him go, and Castiel made a joke about her not having a babysitter anymore. The kiss she left on his cheek had left him speechless, and they left it at that.

He got on the first bus out of town, and kept doing that until he ended up in some lonely town in god knows where. He hadn't seen a sign on the way in, and it was so late in the day that there wasn't really anyone for him to ask.

"Hey buddy!"

Castiel jerked his head up, his eyes landing on a beat up truck, stalling in the middle of the main road. He briefly wondered if that was a good idea, then decided it wasn't his business.

"Yeah, you," the man continued, waving Castiel closer. "You lost, man?"

Castiel shook his head slowly, then passed before shrugging one shoulder. "I'm not headed anywhere particular," he replied, stepping closer despite the danger of being in the road. "A motel, perhaps."

The man nodded slowly, then inclined his head. "I was on my way to get dinner and drink at the bar, but I can drop you at a motel first."

Castiel was speaking before he could stop himself. "Actually, would you mind if I went along? I... could use dinner before bed."

The man grinned and nodded. "Sure, man," he replied, "hop in. I'm Sam, by the way."

Castiel went around the truck and got in, flashing a hesitant smile at Sam. "Nice to meet you."

Sam didn't ask for his name, and Castiel wondered why he had been reluctant to say his name was Steve.

The trip was longer than Castiel expected, and Sam seemed to realize this, because he turned to grimace at Castiel after parking outside The Roadhouse.

"Sorry," Sam said, "I drive this everyday and I guess I forgot how long it actually took to get here. I'll buy your dinner, to make up for it."

"That isn't necessary," Castiel interjected quickly, getting out of the truck to follow Sam inside. "You've already helped so much."

Sam just snorted and waved him off. "My brother works here, so I get discounted food," he explained. "And you would have to be rolling in cash to think discounted food is a bad thing."

Castiel made a noise in the back of his throat, but nodded his consent. He was led to the bar by Sam, and sat stiffly on the nearest barstool. Sam exchanged looks with the bartender that Castiel didn't care to decipher.

"I'm gonna say hi to some family friends," Sam explained, touching Castiel's shoulder. "I'll be back in a minute."

Castiel nodded, watching Sam smile and walk away with a wary look. He usually scoped out places before entering them, and he felt awkward to just be cast in and left alone.

"What can I get you?"

Castiel turned towards the voice, the barstool underneath him squeaking loudly. "Water," he replied, "with lemon slices. And mozzarella sticks. Please."

The bartender, with one eyebrow raised, gave a short nod. Castiel noted that his eyes were green before the man was turning away to fill his order.

As he waited, Castiel examined the rest of the bar.

It was rather small, but he expected that from a bar on the outskirts of town. Comfortable, if a bar could be called that. If he had grown up in the nearby town, it might've been a place he frequented.

He noticed Sam talking to an older woman at one of the booths, grinning. There was a man with a mullet across from the older woman, with his back to Castiel. It made Castiel frown and tilt his head curiously. He had never seen someone with a mullet before. At least, not someone that wasn't in a movie.

"Water, with lemon slices." The glass was set down in front of Castiel, followed by a small bowl of lemon slices. "Cheese sticks are cooking." Instead of walking away, the bartender leaned closer. "I'm Dean. You need anything else?"

Castiel shook his head, blinking slowly as he turned to face the bar again.

Dean hummed, tapping his fingers against the bar. "Most folks who come in here live in the town. And I've never seen you before."

Castiel heard the question, and debated ignoring it. But he was tired, and Dean seemed genuinely curious. Then again, Castiel knew the dance of bartenders. They talked because it was their job.

"Passing through," he replied anyway, squeezing the juice out of three lemons before discarding them in the bowl. "It's quiet."

Dean grinned, bobbing his head. "Wednesday night," he pointed out. "People gotta work tomorrow. Where you headed?"

Castiel blinked, uncertain of the blunt attitude Dean possessed. "Why?" he asked, "I can assure you I'm not on the run from the law just because I stopped at a random, nearly hidden bar."

Dean laughed, his head dropping forward and his shoulders shaking with the effort of it. Castiel didn't have the energy to be surprised, but he knew he would've been otherwise.

"I believe you," Dean said, grinning. "You came with Sam, after all. I'm just curious, is all. Not often do handsome men walk in during my shift. And the ones that do are already taken."

"You think I'm not?" Castiel asked, hand clenching around his glass of water. "You're incredibly presumptuous, Dean."

Dean shrugged, appearing unaffected. "Well," he said. "Are you taken?"

Castiel swayed back, expecting the question but caught off guard just the same. His eyes dropped to his hand, where his purity ring sat. It taunted him, not for the first time.

When he looked up again, Dean's eyes were just starting to raise to meet his. The curiosity was still written on his face, the presence of Castiel's ring doing nothing to deter him. Castiel wondered if that was a bad thing.

"Purity ring," he explained, twisting the band on his finger. It felt like a weight, but he couldn't bring himself to take it off. "My parents bought it for me when I was thirteen." A memory had him clenching his hand and gritting his teeth. "They are ignorant."

Dean was quiet for a moment, simply watching Castiel with an open face. Castiel wondered if Dean had any secrets, and if he would share them.

"So," Dean began, straightening up and planting his hand on the bar. "Where you headed?"

Castiel huffed, his lips twitching. "I don't know," he replied, shrugging. "Nowhere."

At that, Dean grinned. He offered his hand to Castiel. "Welcome to Nowhere," he said brightly. "What's your name?"

There was no clicking of links into place, or puzzle pieces suddenly fitting. Castiel didn't get a sense of home, but he wasn't sure he ever would.

Still, when he took Dean's hand and gave it a firm shake, there was no hesitation when he responded.

"Castiel," he said. "Castiel Novak."


End file.
